


let’s talk about sex, baby (let’s talk about you and me)

by boasamishipper



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Condoms, Crushes, Embarrassment, Flirting, Happy Ending, M/M, Male Friendship, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boasamishipper/pseuds/boasamishipper
Summary: Prompt: I keep coming in to take condoms from the health services desk because I think you’re cute and I’m pretty sure you must think my sex life is wild.
Relationships: Carole Bradshaw/Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	let’s talk about sex, baby (let’s talk about you and me)

The Student Activity Center (better known as the SAC) is on the east end of campus, located near the law school and the bars frequented by alumni reliving the good old days and freshmen with poorly-made fake IDs. There are different organizations on every floor — the student government shares the fourth floor with the Young Democrats and Young Republicans — but Pete’s never ventured beyond the fifth floor, which is the best study space on campus. Emptier and better than the library, with more comfortable chairs and faster Wi-Fi.

And if he spends more time glancing over at the hot guy working at the Health Services desk than looking down at his textbooks, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

It’s not a crush. Pete doesn’t even know anything about Hot Health Services Guy other than the fact that he’s blond and tall (and  _ exactly _ Pete’s type), and sometimes steals mints from one of the bowls on the desk, and works three days a week from noon to five, and answers the phone with, “University Health Services, how can I help you?” He seems serious, but sometimes he laughs when he’s talking on the phone, and the sound makes Pete’s heart constrict. The one time Pete had seen Hot Health Services Guy smile — he’d been talking to some of his friends that had stopped by — it had made Pete’s entire brain short-circuit, and it took five minutes for Pete to remember how to spell his own name.

But yeah. It’s definitely not a crush.

“Uh huh,” Nick says, unimpressed. Nick’s his best friend, and has let Pete get away with approximately nothing since they met at the bus stop his freshman year of high school. “You are so in denial.”

“I am not.” Pete throws a wadded up napkin at Nick’s head. “I’m telling you, it’s not a crush. I just admire his…work ethic.”

Nick laughs out loud. “That’s exactly what I said about Carole when we first met,” he says dreamily, like they’ve been married for fifty years and not just dating for six months. Still, Pete’s pretty sure that they’re going to get married one day, and already has his spot reserved as Nick’s best man. “Have you talked to him?”

“We’ve talked,” Pete says, indignant. “Sometimes he says ‘Have a nice day’ to me when I’m walking out. Or, ‘Have a good weekend.’ And then I say thanks.” He takes a sip of his drink. “He’s usually studying. Or on the phone. Besides, I don’t even know if he’s interested in me like that.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in him like that,” Nick teases, and Pete buries his head in his hands. So much for his attempt at denial. “Hey, remember when I was mooning over Carole for half of last semester and you told me to stop being a pussy and go talk to her?”

Pete’s got a bad feeling about this. “Yeah.”

Nick grins. “Time for me to return the favor.”

* * *

Pete’s not usually nervous when it comes to asking people out. Hard to be nervous about something you’ve done a hundred times before. Hell, he’d picked up his last girlfriend with an elaborate song and dance routine (with Nick’s help) at a frat party; a ballsy move for a freshman (especially since she’d been a senior), but it had worked out in his favor.

Things had ended up crashing and burning a few months later. Charlie had been whip-smart and ambitious and beautiful to boot, but something about the way she interacted with him left Pete feeling like a half-done project she was only bothering with because she was bored. He’d felt self-conscious constantly, up until the very end when she’d tutted and firmly straightened his collar before breaking up with him. It’d taken him most of the summer to put himself back together again, and now it’s October of his sophomore year and he’s finally ready to get back in the game.

By the time he makes himself get up from his usual table and walk toward the Health Services desk, his hands are shaking so badly that he hides them in the pockets of his leather jacket so Hot Health Services Guy won’t see. He’s got his line all ready in his head —  _ so what’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this? _ — but when Hot Health Services Guy looks up from his textbooks, Pete’s entire mind goes blank.

“Hi,” says Hot Health Services Guy. His eyes are a pale blue, so pale that they’re almost gray, and there’s a tiny birthmark on the side of his jaw. “Can I help you with something?”

Pete opens his mouth, closes it. There’s no way he’s even going to be able to get a full sentence out around Hot Health Services Guy, so he cuts his losses and reaches for the mint bowl, grabbing a handful and shoving them into his pocket. “Nah,” he manages. “I’m good.”

“Alright,” Hot Health Services Guy says, the corner of his mouth twitching in what Pete thinks is amusement. “Have a fun weekend.”

It’s not until Pete’s in the elevator that he realizes what he’d grabbed hadn’t been mints like he’d intended, but instead a literal  _ handful  _ of condoms from the Sex Out Loud bowl, and he sinks to the floor with a groan and wishes he were dead.

* * *

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“Pete, oh my God.”

“I  _ know.” _

Nick is laughing so hard that he looks like he’s having trouble breathing. Some of the other students in the Union are starting to stare, and Pete focuses determinedly on the football game playing on the television screen, his face hot. “Oh man,” Nick finally says, wiping tears of mirth away. “So what’re you going to do with the condoms?”

“Fuck if I know. You and Carole can use them.” There’s a swell of cheers around them; apparently the Miramar Tomcats had just scored. “Have a fun date night together.”

“It’ll definitely be a fun date night with eleven condoms,” Nick says with a grin, and Pete groans again. Jesus Christ, he’s such a fucking idiot. It would have been fine if he’d taken one or two; that would have been normal. But instead he’d panicked and grabbed eleven condoms and walked away without a word, and now Hot Health Services Guy probably thinks he’s some kind of sex maverick. “Alright, this isn’t the end of the world. Just go over and talk to him again, and this time don’t grab a handful of condoms.”

“Easier said than done,” Pete mutters. He lifts his bottle of water to his mouth and—

“Hey, Bradshaw, how’s it going?”

Pete  _ chokes, _ and it takes all of his willpower not to spit the water across the table. Hot Health Services Guy is standing beside them, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and he’s smiling and looking at…Nick, who’s standing up and grinning. What the fuck. “Doing good, Tom! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, it’s been ages. You have any classes in Humanities this semester?”

“Nah, I only needed the three lit credits for graduation requirements. Though I wouldn’t have passed Heatherly’s class at all if it weren’t for your help.”

“And I would’ve been bored out of my mind in discussion half the time if it weren’t for you, so we’ll call it even.”

“Sure, sure.” Then Nick looks over at Pete, and Pete forces his expression to go from completely stunned to semi-neutral. “Sorry,” Nick says, like he can’t believe himself for being so rude. “Tom, this is Pete Mitchell. Pete Mitchell, Tom Kazansky.”

Hot Health Services Guy — Tom Kazansky, his name is Tom Kazansky and Nick knows him, what the  _ fuck _ — raises his eyebrows, and Pete wants to die. “I’ve seen you around before, haven’t I?”

_ Please God, just kill me now.  _ “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I’ve...I’ve seen you at the SAC. You work at Health Services.”

Recognition dawns, followed by amusement. “That’s right,” Tom Kazansky says. He nods at the table, where the pile of condoms Pete had accidentally taken rests next to Pete’s bottle of water. “Putting those to good use?”

“Uh huh,” Pete manages. His face is so red it could probably stop traffic. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tom Kazansky turns back to Nick, who looks like he’s watching the season finale of  _ The Bachelor  _ or one of those other stupid reality shows he’s obsessed with. “I’ll see you later,” he says to Nick, and smiles at Pete before he shoulders his backpack higher and heads off.

Pete waits until he’s sure Tom Kazansky is out of earshot before he whacks Nick hard on the shoulder. “Nick, what the  _ fuck,” _ he hisses. “You know Hot Health Services Guy and you never told me?”

“I didn’t know that’s who you were talking about!” Nick protests. “It’s not like you ever told me his name.”

Which — yeah, he guesses that’s fair, especially since he didn’t even know Hot Health Services Guy’s name until two minutes ago. But he’s still got the right to be pissed on principle. “How do you know him?”

“He was in my American Lit discussion last semester,” Nick says.

“So you know him?”

“Not really. He’s a junior, and he’s double-majoring in English and Physics. At least he was last time I saw him.” English and Physics. Jesus. That’d definitely explain why he’s always studying on the job. “He plays lacrosse, and I think he’s on the student council. That’s pretty much all I know. He kinda kept to himself.”

Great. So it’s not enough that Tom Kazansky’s the hottest guy Pete’s ever seen; now he’s a mysterious genius who probably thinks Pete is an idiot. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Anyway,” Nick says, oblivious to Pete’s desire to bang his head against the nearest wall until he somehow goes back in time from sheer blunt force head trauma and prevents his past self from ever opening his mouth again. “He’s a nice guy. You should go for him.”

“I can’t just go for him, Nick. He probably has a girlfriend. A boyfriend. Somebody.” If a guy like Tom Kazansky is single, then the world cannot possibly make any sense.

“You never know until you ask,” Nick says fairly. Pete hates him for being right. “Besides, it’s either going for him or watching him from afar and taking condoms you don’t need because you’re too afraid to talk to him.” He finishes his own bottle of water. “So what’re you gonna do?”

* * *

Pete doesn’t go back to the SAC intending to speak to Tom Kazansky, at least not until he comes up with a better pick-up line and works up the nerve to explain that he actually hadn’t needed that handful of condoms. He’s got a chemistry exam in two days that’s worth half his grade, and the class has been thoroughly kicking his ass all semester. He hates this university for making O-Chem one of the required electives for a mechanical engineering degree, almost as much as he hates stereoisomers for existing.

Two hours after arriving — his head swimming with formulas — Pete goes over to the vending machines, pressing his head against the glass with a groan. He just needs to pass this stupid class. Why is this stupid class so fucking hard to understand?

“Rough day?”

Two facts Pete had managed to forget in his academia-induced misery: that the vending machines are directly across from the Health Services desk, and that his life is now apparently a bad movie. He turns around, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve got an O-Chem exam on Wednesday.”

Tom Kazansky makes a sympathetic noise. “343? Metcalf’s class?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I took that last semester,” Tom Kazansky says. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Leave it to Tom Kazansky to be the one person on Earth who thinks organic chemistry isn’t that bad. He probably solves the Millennium Prize Problems for fun. “How are you with drawing line structures?”

Tom Kazansky shrugs. “It’s been a while since I’ve done it. Do you have notes?”

“Some,” Pete says. “I’ll buy you dinner if you help me.”

“Sold,” Tom Kazansky says. Good to know that he — like every poor college student — is susceptible to offers of free dinner. “Let me see your notes.” 

Pete brings his notes to the Health Services desk, orders a pizza from the Toppers across the street, and the two of them get to work. In addition to being a genius (and the hottest person Pete’s ever seen), Tom Kazansky is apparently a miracle worker. By five pm, Pete knows how to convert Lewis structures to line structures and vice versa. He honestly might cry.

“Told you it wasn’t that bad,” Tom Kazansky — who Pete may as well stop full-naming now — says, finishing off the last piece of pizza. “Just remember that any of the unfilled valences on carbon are assumed to be filled by hydrogen atoms, and you should be fine.”

“Thanks, man,” Pete says. “Seriously. I owe you one.”

“You bought me dinner,” Tom says. “That’s good enough for me.”

Pete’s face flushes. What he really wants to do is ask Tom if he wants to have dinner with Pete again, this time in a more private setting than the SAC, but he can’t make the words come out — and certainly not smoothly. What he does instead is take a couple of condoms from the bowl at the edge of the desk and put them in his jacket pocket. Since he doesn’t have the courage to explain why he did this the first time, he might as well just act like taking free condoms is something he does all the time. “Thanks,” he says again. “I, uh. I’ll see you later.”

Tom smiles at him, but it’s tinged with something that Pete can’t quite place. “You can count on it.”

* * *

A week passes. Pete scrapes a C on his exam, which — with the curve — means he’s definitely going to pass the class. He and Nick and Carole and a few of their other friends have made plans to celebrate the end of the first round of midterms at his apartment that night, but he stops at the SAC on the way home from class. Just to tell Tom and thank him for his help. Not because Pete wants to see him or anything.

There’s somebody leaning over the Health Services desk, a taller guy that looks half chiseled Greek god, half GQ cover model, and Pete immediately feels the joy go out of him when he sees Tom smiling up at the guy. Fuck. If this is Pete’s competition for Tom’s hand, he might as well throw in the towel right now.

“I’ll see you later, Tom,” the guy says, and grabs a mint from the bowl on his way out of the SAC. Goddamn it, the guy can even make a smooth exit. Shit.

“Hey,” Tom says to Pete, whose responding smile probably comes off like he’s on the receiving end of a tetanus shot. “How’d your exam go?”

“Passed it,” Pete says. “Thanks to you, anyway.” He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, and nods in the direction that the guy went in. His stomach is in knots. “Friend of yours?”

“Roommate,” Tom says. “I left one of my folders at my apartment and he came by to drop it off. I didn’t have time to go home between the end of my shift and the student council meeting.”

The knot in his stomach loosens considerably, and he’s able to smile more genuinely. The GQ cover model is Tom’s roommate, not his boyfriend. Thank God. Maybe Pete still has a chance. “What do you do on student council?”

“Nothing, officially. All of the student organizations have to request funding from them once a semester, so since I’m the president of mine, that’s how I’ll be spending my evening.”

He wonders if Sex Out Loud will be there that evening; they’ll probably have to request more funding since he’s been bankrupting their supply of condoms. “Which student org are you the head of?”

“The GSA,” Tom says. He sounds normal, but his shoulders have tensed imperceptibly, like he thinks Pete won’t take that information well. “The Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh,” Pete says, desperately searching for something to say that isn’t _That’s awesome so do you like guys do you like me please go out with me._ “My friend Nick, his girlfriend’s in the GSA. Do you know her? Her name’s Carole Hyra.”

“Yeah, I know Carole,” Tom says, smiling. Pete smiles back, alternating between elation that his chance with Tom might have increased and exasperation that yet another one of his friends knew Hot Health Services Guy and never told him. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” Pete’s smile grows. Carole’s like an older sister to him, and he likes her a lot — and likes that she makes Nick happy. “So, uh. Thanks, again. For helping me study, I mean.”

“You’re welcome.” Tom’s smile is amused and maybe even a little fond. Pete is in love. He wants to marry this man. He wants to marry him and have twelve children and name them all TOM KAZANSKY in all caps. “Is that all you came by to do? To thank me?”

“No,” Pete lies. “No, I also came by to…to get more of these.” He takes another handful of condoms and puts them in his jacket pocket, inwardly cursing his own stupidity. He makes a mental note to hide them in Nick’s bag this time; he doesn’t need his best friend teasing him for chickening out for the third time in a row. “I gotta go. Uh, see you later. Good luck at your meeting. Bye.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous, Pete,” Nick says about two weeks later. “You’ve got enough condoms by now to start your own sex ed program. Just ask him out already.”

“I’m  _ trying,” _ Pete protests. “I almost did it last time, but the phone rang and he had to answer it.”

“And you took the condoms and split.”

“...Yeah.”

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he finally says. “I’ve got a solution. I dare you to ask him out.”

“You can’t dare me to do something I’m already trying to do.”

“No, Pete,” Nick says. “I  _ dare  _ you.”

The implication hits him like a punch to the gut. “Oh, come on. That’s not fair.”

“Yes it is,” Nick says smugly. “I’m collecting the debt.”

Back in their senior year of high school, at a party that both of them had regretted the next morning, Nick had dared Pete to kiss Penny Benjamin, who’d been making eyes at him all night. Pete had managed to beg his way out of it, and Nick had claimed he’d get Pete back later. And apparently now is the later that he’d mentioned.

Pete buries his face in his hands and groans. Nick pats him on the back. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

* * *

Pete’s got an hour long break between lectures on Wednesdays, so he stops by the SAC at twelve thirty, and Tom’s behind the Health Services desk with a stack of books in front of him. Looks like the poster boy for good study habits: highlighters, post-it notes, no electronics. Better than Pete, whose study habits consist of doing Quizlets the night before.

“So, uh.” Pete clears his throat. “What...what’re you reading?”

Tom doesn’t look up from the notes he’s carefully and meticulously taking in the margins. “Beowulf.”

“Oh, cool,” Pete says, even though he has no idea what that is. “I’ve read that.”

That makes Tom look up. “Really.”

Pete tries not to sweat under the scrutiny of that cool, assessing gaze. “Uh huh.”

“What was your favorite part?”

“Oh, you know…” He’s stalling, praying for divine intervention in the form of a fire drill or sudden extensive knowledge of whatever the hell Beowulf is. “The part with…the wolf.”

Tom snorts. Pete doesn’t use that word lightly, not unless someone actually, truly snorts, and Tom looks dangerously close to choking from laughter. Thank God there’s too much noise in the commons for anyone to look over at them. “The wolf, huh,” he manages. “I don't think I remember that part.”

Pete’s face is so red it could probably stop traffic. “Maybe you’re reading a different edition.”

“Maybe,” Tom echoes, but he’s smiling a little, and — God, Pete is so gone that it’s physically painful. “Maybe you can fill me in on what I’ve missed sometime.”

That — Pete freezes. Okay, he’s not the most observant person on the planet, but there’s only so many ways somebody can interpret that sentence, and he’s pretty sure he’s got it right. Tom Kazansky is flirting with him.  _ Holy shit. _

“Maybe,” he says. His mind is racing; his heart is drumming impossibly fast against his ribcage. He’s got a dare to adhere to and a lecture he can’t miss, so he’s going to have to cut this short. “Yeah, maybe. I — I’ve gotta go. I’ll be back. Don’t move. Bye.”

* * *

At a quarter til five, Pete returns to the SAC and sees Tom waiting by the Health Services desk, wearing his coat with his backpack slung over his shoulder. While Tom watches him, Pete takes off his own backpack and dumps every condom he’d ever stolen back into the Sex Out Loud bowl. It’s a fairly substantial amount, which is probably why Tom’s eyebrows threaten to disappear into his hair. “Didn’t work out for you?”

Pete forces himself to shrug, play it cool. “Never really needed them to begin with,” he says. “Honestly, I only took them because I...panicked. Trying to ask you out.”

A slow, pleased smile spreads across Tom’s face. “You were trying to ask me out?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Hell of a method you’ve got there, Mitchell. Real slick.”

“I told you, I panicked,” Pete protests, and tries not to blush when Tom laughs. “Listen, I know your shift’s probably over, so — do you want to go and have dinner?”

Tom’s smile grows wider. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sure.” He zips up his coat and makes to follow Pete before he stops, turns around, and takes a condom out of the Sex Out Loud bowl and puts it in his pocket. “What?” he says in response to Pete’s raised eyebrows, and smirks. “You never know. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sex Out Loud is a student sexual health organization. Their mission is to promote healthy sexuality through sex positive education and activism. (They're very active on my campus -- they gave out candy and condoms on Halloween.)


End file.
